War... War never changes.
Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage.
In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation.
But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world--but war? War never changes.
In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them. Since then, there has been some level of rebuilding--but life is still an ever-dangerous struggle for the survivors of the war.
On the outskirts of Chicago, many small settlements have sprung up, beacons of light in a world of darkness, displaying that uncanny knack the human race has to survive the worst they can throw at themselves. In one of these towns, a group of men and women are about to gather together, to embark on a journey like no other.
Will it change the face of the Wasteland? Perhaps. Will they all fall and become so many more rotting corpses under the blazing heat of nuclear winter? Perhaps. We can only be sure that they'll be fighting a war for their survival.
And war never changes.
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""
You know that voice; its gruff and gravelly sound, slightly nasal; its no-nonsense tone, the kind that clearly says its owner doesn't care WHAT you think; its deafening loudness that leaves a ringing in your ears. The voice of Senior Paladin Jedediah Watkins--your superior officer.
As you enter the room, you see the man sitting at his desk, Power Armor on but the helmet on the warped wood. A large man with a big, black, handlebar mustache, Watkins' defining facial feature is the ugly white scar that runs across his face and the smashed nose that accompanies it. "From a DAMNED MUTIE!" Watkins always says, when asked where he got the disfiguration--not that he would have been pleasant to look at without the wound. Right now he also has one of his cigars, which he supposedly rolls himself from scavenged cigarettes and other tobacco, in his mouth, the lit end positioned just so over an ashtray.
"Kora," he growls as you enter, though he doesn't look to be in a particularly malevolent mood today. "You have no what trouble you put us through hiding away that last audiotape from your run-in with those raiders out Felldom way. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't've given 'em what you did--f*ckin' raiders, they deserve that and worse. But still! We have a reputation to uphold." The way Watkins spits out the word shows just what he thinks of the Brotherhood's concern about how they're seen.
"Some of the higher-ups want you docked for that, kid," Watkins says suddenly. "They're talking about demoting you back to Scribe, or even kicking you out entirely. Fact of the matter is, you're in deep sh*t. And if your parents weren't so important, you'd probably be out on your ass. Hell, as it is I'm gonna give you another shot just because Joe and I go back a ways."
From a drawer of the desk, the Senior Paladin draws a clipboard with some papers attached, and tosses it onto the desk, spinning it so you can see a mission form. "There's a Vault some day's journey south of here, number two-three-two. Locals use it as a graveyard, a mauso-what's-it. Damned unschooled heathens, probably worship the tech as a god or some sh*t like that. Whatever it is, there may still be tech inside, but we're doubtful, so we haven't sent anybody yet. But now we've heard rumors of some trouble down that way, something about missing guards, and there've been Mutie sightings as well as the possibility of raiders. Command wants somebody to check it out, and I say that somebody's YOU." Watkins jabs a finger at your face. "They don't like it, but I'm in charge of the Paladins here, and I say you get one more shot, so you're going to check this out. Routine sweep, put down any raiders you find; if there's a strong Mutie presence, you get your ass back here and we send in the cavalry. Understood?"
Damn, but your head hurts. You've pretty much just woken up and crawled out of that weird pit.
The world looks... different, vaguely, although you can't remember exactly what it looked like before that makes it different now. It's hot, and dry, and there's a very slight breeze that kicks up the sand and dust into the air, pelting your body and face. However, off in the distance, you can make out what looks like some hills, and maybe a big statue or building on one of them? And near the foot of those hills, you see what looks like a small cloud moving, across the horizon... The kind of cloud that might be kicked up by a group of people walking in a desert like this...
From wherever your backgrounds, you've found yourselves in a small settlement a day or two's journey south of the main ruins of Chicago. Some of you have come from there; some of you have come from elsewhere in the Wastes; and maybe, some of you are fortunate--or unfortunate, depending on your take--to have grown up right here, in Gulchbottom.
That's right, Gulchbottom--a little town situated in the bottom of a ravine, one that may have existed before the War or one that was carved into the face of the earth by the bombs; nobody's sure. It's an old town, one that actually may have existed even before the Great War, judging by the construction of the buildings, although the population was hit by the bombs and it took a few years for everyone to regroup. Most of the population are humans, but there's a fair number of ghouls in town as well, and the poor souls afflicted by the radiation find a measure of acceptance here that they don't typically see anywhere else in the Wasteland.
Whatever your reason for being in town, you find yourself currently in the Cavern Inn, a small bar and restaurant with a few beds--scavenged mattresses that aren't quite as ripped up as what you'd find in abandoned houses, and that don't require breaking in to use--upstairs. The main region is actually a building built against the side of the ravine, but the back wall and the ravine wall behind it collapsed at some point, and so the main room extends some twenty feet behind the dimensions of the original structure. The proprietor, a man named Ian, is also a town councilor, known for a gruff nature and a way with mole rat meat.
From the back room where Ian fixes food you hear raised voices, and you recall that the barkeep and two other townspeople disappeared back there a few minutes ago. Striding back into the main room come Ian, accompanied by a human woman and a (presumably) male ghoul--townies recognize them as Mia Dayana, the captain of the town guard, and Gramp, another councilor and the owner of the Gulchbottom General Store, respectively. Ian points at each of you in turn and beckons you to an empty table in the cavern area, his dark eyes and the ten-mil. pistol he wears on his hip warning you not to ignore him.
Once everyone's gathered, Ian looks at you. "You bunch are mercenaries, right? Do anything for some caps?" His glare seems to challenge you to deny it. "You're adventurous sorts? We need some brave and capable folk, and we need 'em now, and we've got the caps to pay."
Barely waiting for an answer, Ian continues. "Mia here says we've got trouble up in the Vault," he says, his voice lowered a little so only you at the table can hear it, and he gestures with a thumb at the woman on his right. Mia shifts uncomfortably, and you can sense some fear from the others in the Cavern. "We need your help, and we need it now."
Mia, who's wearing some simple combat gear that looks to have been scavenged from various travelers and finds over the years, and who has a rifle strapped across her back, shifts again and fills you in a little on the situation. "We've got some missing people. We use the old Vault as a graveyard of sorts--a mausoleum, gives us a nice place to keep the dead, somewhere they aren't likely to be dug up or raided from, since most people don't bother with the Vaults anymore. Anyway, these folks went up day before last, to get a recently dead man ready for interment. This family--a mother, father, daughter--didn't return. I sent up a couple of town sentinels to check on them when their dogs were seen roaming around town on their own and nobody'd seen the family, but the guards didn't come back either. I don't wanna send anymore of my people right now..." Mia clears her throat, and Ian picks up the story.
"The missing guards are a ghoul called Doornail and a woman, Zeera. They're trained soldiers, fought off raiders before, and the fact that they didn't come back is worrying."
Here the ghoul, Gramp, adds, "There hasn't been any real trouble here in town as far as I remember, and I've lived here pretty much since the bombs dropped. Certainly nothing like this, especially up in the Vault."
Ian speaks up again, leaning on the table and looking you each in the eye. "Look, the fact of the matter is, we're not equipped to deal with this sort of thing, especially if it turns out to be dangerous, and we don't want the townsfolk to get worried--especially with Speaker Jerry visiting So-Chi-Town on business. We can pay you fifty caps each to just head up there and find out what's going on; if you figure out what happened and deal with it, I'll pay you an additional five times as much. That's three hundred caps each, all told, and it may just be getting some frightened folks back down here--course, it may also be Muties, since there was an alleged sighting the other day. So what do you say?"
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"Can't risk any more of your people, but you expect me to go traipsing around up there for 50 measly caps?" Gergg scoffs. "You guys own half this s++~hole of a town and 50 caps apiece is all you can scrounge up for a job like this? I don't drag my shriveled ass out of bed for less than 100. Up front, too."
"I don't mind vault-diving if I expect to find something worthwhile," the undersized ghoul says, his tone softening only slightly. "But the way you're describing it, there's nothin' but corpses up there. Say what you will about me, I'm no grave robber."
"And I sure as hell didn't get by for this long taking on suicide missions for no 50 caps. 50 damn caps, you gotta be s#@#tin' me..." he says, shaking his head, his gravely voice trailing into a snicker as he begins to rack his brain in an attempt to remember anything pertinent he may know about the vault in question.
Winter's previous attempts at Spreading the Light in Gulchbottom haven't been terribly successful. Picking the remains of the tar and feathers from his pasty, blotchy skin, he grins at Ian
This is what they call heaping hot coals on your enemy's head. I'm glad I stopped taking that commandment so literally...
"Of course! Atom's hands are kind hands, doing good to all!"
"Do you know what they used to do in the vault, or is there anyone else who might know if you don't?"
Ian scowls down at Gergg, and Gramp and Mia look slightly offended, even. "You seem to have pulled that shriveled ass out just to pay me for your food and drink, Gergg--I don't see your issue with receiving the money for once. But fine; we can give you a hundred now, and two-hundred when you get back, and not a cap more as of now. Like I said, this is probably just going up and finding the folks; maybe there was a minor cave-in, we don't know."
The barkeep turns to the Atom worshiper. "Thank you for your kindness," he says, shooting another glare at Gergg. "The Vault is really just used as a special graveyard at this point, for prominent citizens of Gulchbottom to be laid at rest. We really don't have any trouble up there, since there's patrols regularly--Mia can tell you more about our guard situation."
You can recall a fair amount of information about Gulchbottom and the missing folks from your time in the town.
The missing folks, you've heard, were all human, a family: the mother Desiree, the father Morgan, and the daughter Tyra; their family name is Halls. They were heading up to bury Morgan's father, Gunar Halls. They own some land and a good-sized house south of Gulchbottom, and they were well-liked and prominent in town, the prominence being why Gunar got a place in the Vault... like virtually all of Ian's ancestors.
To learn more about the Vault or the guards, though, you'd have to ask those in the know, primarily Ian and Mia.
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Oops, sorry.
"What's the matter, Sugar?" Gergg asks Mia, noting her disgust at his bargaining tactics. "I've gotta look out for my little old self, surely you understand that. By the way, what kinda gear did your guards head up there with? I want to make sure I'm better equipped. You know, in case of another cave-in and all."
"And anything you know about the Vault's history might comein handy, old-timer," Gergg mentions to Gramp. "My memory gets fuzzy when I try to remember back that far, and I'm sure you've been around here longer than I have anyway. Far as I know the Vaults had special purposes, even if they weren't advertised that way to the poor saps who bought spots in 'em."
"Look, we all know it wasn't no damn cave-in... Not when two groups went missing up there on two separate occasions," Gergg whispers. "I know a little about the smoothskins that went missing first -- the Halls family. Mom, dad and daughter went up there to chuck grandpa in the Vault; That alone lets you know they've got some pull around here and plenty of caps. The dad's name is Morgan, mom's Desiree and the daughter's Tyra. Dead grandpa's name was Gunar. They live a little south of here if we want to check out their place before we head toward the Vault."
Fitzgerald sits at the table playing with his mustache as the situation is explained, listening intently. As the word Muties is mentioned, Fitzgerald face cracks into a smile and happiness glints in his eyes.
Bully good sir! Bully! Anything with the hint of danger and the rumor of Muties sounds like a smashing to time what? Point me in the direction and let's get cracking! Fitzgerald slaps his hand down on the table at this last word.
"Har har," Ian says, rolling his eyes at the little ghoul's antics. "Look, Gergg, you get some caps now, or rather, fifty now because we've got that much on us, and hit the guard building in a bit to get the rest from Mia. If you find anything useful up there, bring it to Gramp's shop, he deals with that; now if you'll excuse me, I've got other customers here, ones who aren't trying to wring me dry before they even do anything." That said, the man walks back to the main bar.
Mia runs her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair, looking tired and frustrated. "Look, I don't have time to put up with your sh*t right now, you little *sshole--I've got other work to do, and apparently, a fair deal more caps to get out." She drops her hands, her left one falling to rest on the butt of the laser pistol she wears. "The sentinels had the same gear they always do--whatever armor and weapons we could scrounge up and lend out. I think Doornail had a hunting rifle, and Zeera just had a simple baton." Unless anyone else has something to say to her, she gives an odd look to Fitz at his outburst, then leaves.
Gramp shakes his head with a little grin--at least, it looks like a grin, it's tough to say because of his condition--and sits down in another chair. "I been here longer 'n anybody," the ghoul begins. "Hell, I lived here before the War, and I think that alone puts me here before anybody else. But, that doesn't matter. What does is the Vault.
"That Vault's been used by the good people of Gulchbottom as a mausoleum just about since it opened up. 'Course, only the prominent folks get interred in the Vault--most of the regular smoothies, and even ghouls like me, get stashed in the ground somewhere in the hills, usually just a ways off the road up to the Vault. The Vault itself is kept locked--rather, the little building that 'hides' the entrance is. No windows, all metal--that sh*tty little shack managed to stand up to the bombs like nothin' else. Anyway, the sentinels all have keys, and so do some other important townsfolk, mostly councilors like me an' Ian. As for safety, this sorta thing, like I said, is the first we've heard of trouble. Sure, there's mole rats and dogs out there, like there are everywhere, and there's some raiders and the occasional Super Mutant, but there's no reason for them to bother the Vault much--no good prey for the animals, and nothing of value for the raiders to take."
"Adventurer for sure! Could be considered a breed of mercenary, no doubt. I'd do just about anything for caps at this point. I'm taking dares."
Deidre was pleased when Gergg demanded more caps up front. She doesn't want to push her luck, but these are desperate times and she needed supplies, whether they found the family or not.
"Hey. Any idea what the vault was used for prior to becoming a graveyard?"
Deidre finishes her conversation with:
"This sounds like it'll be fun. Before I do ANYTHING I have to shovel some food. How about some complimentary shlop? Consider it a caloric investment for your newly purchased adventurers. :)" She gives a charming smile, bearing an unusually well-kept set of teeth. It's what's been mainly filling her belly these days.
Gramp turns to face Deidre. "Good to hear it, smoothie, although keep up that talk and you're gonna get some offers you may not like." He gives a short, sharp laugh, which grates just a little on your ears due to the ghoul's rough vocalizations.
"As for the Vault, well, it was used like any other Vault--it kept people safe during the War, when the bombs fell. I don't know about any special purpose--obviously, I wasn't invited to the party, heh--but if you're interested, there's a big statue on a hill about a mile north of town. We're not sure just who it's of--my own memory's a little hazy on that point--but locals call it the Pre-War Man."
"You know," Gramp says, leaning back and folding his arms, "I kinda like you, smoothie. You're new here, but you're not hateful like most travelers, and you're helping out the town. The least ol' Gramp can do is rustle up some grub for ya." The ghoul holds up a hand to the barkeep. "Ian! A mole rat pie for this table, my tab."
The ghoul stands up again and pats a scabby hand on the table. "You folks stay alive out there and hit my shop afterwards, I'll give you a discount, hm?" With that, he leaves.
Perception:
As Gramp is getting up after requesting Ian get food, you hear the barkeep mutter, "As if you're ever gonna pay that tab..." It sounds as if in general jest, though, and not malicious; Ian sets about putting something in an oven and turning it on.
He stood and took the berating from the Head Paladin, he had been prepared the moment he had pressed the knife to the first Raiders throat. He wasn't proud of what he did but that was three corpses that wouldn't hurt anyone else.
He hadn't tried to hide the audiotape but as politics go his Platoon commander hung him out to dry and he was going to take it in the hopes that he'd one up the bastard. This assignment sounded like it would do just that. As he weathered the storm of plausible threats and was finally able to speak he kept his questions simple and to the point. He was more then ready to leave right there and then but tried not to betray the excitement he was feeling. Three days of no patrols had been too long and he was itching to look for new tech, he had been under a house arrest damn near until the summary hearing was over so he hadn't been working on anything at all.
He quickly scanned over the mission forms and read the assignment over, embedding the mission parameters to memory before speaking. "Thank you for this assignment, I won't let you down, Sir. I will set out within the hour." He rolls up the mission forms and slides them into his scribe robes as he stood at attention to be dismissed.
Winter beams, reciting a quick grace:
"Atom's roaring through the sky
Upon his mighty steed
Oh Atom, crush our Godless foes
And bless us when we feed. AMEN!"
While waiting for the food to arrive, he looks around at the others.
"Brothers and sisters, I say we go and look at the Pre-War Man - after we've eaten, of course. Unless any of you know anything more about him?"
He wanders in right before the townsfolk's little speech. His eyes hard and blood coating his jacket.
You need help huh. Someone messing with the dead. Well that just don't sit right with me. They have earned their rest. I will go look. And whatevers bothering you fol k won't be a problem no more if I can do anything about it. But first may I have a cupa coffee or a glass of water for the road while I square away my s+&&?
He sits down and pulls off the jacket quickly patching the few holes in it and scrubbing it clean. As he does some of you may notice old style tattoos of the sort that haven't been seen since before the war.
Senior Paladin Watkins nods, taking back the sheet that you signed to officially take the mission. "Dismissed, Junior Paladin," he says once, but as you leave, he raps his desk and you turn to look. "Don't f*ck this up, Kirion," he growls, and then he resumes his paperwork.
After a few minutes, Ian comes over with a platter. On the metal disc is a single pie, about a foot in diameter, that smells pretty damn good, especially compared to the usual fare of the Wastes. He moves back to the kitchen and comes out with a cups of water that, while room-temperature, don't look too dirty. "Anything else, you have to pay for," Ian says, setting down the cups. "Just holler." He glances at Darius on his way back to the bar. "Nice tats, where'd you get 'em? I don't recognize the design."
Perception
"An adventure and pie? That's very decent of you old chap. Fitzgerald takes his monocle off as he takes a cloth out of his shirt pocket. He wipes his monocle clean. After Winter's prayer he puts his monocle back on his other eye, and starts to eat.
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"Oh Great Atom, here we sits, hope this pie don't give us the $hits. Amen. Dig in."
In between mouthfuls of Mole Rat pie, he offers his suggestions to the group.
"Pre-War Man's probably nothin' but Vault-Tec propaganda, but it might be worth a look. I'm thinking we might want to the Halls' house before we go to the Vault to make sure they haven't snuck back into town while we've been flapping our gums. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and they'll either be there or we'll find a note from them saying they moved or something."
".....are you going to eat the rest of that?"
She gobbles up the rest of her meal(s), creating quite a mess.
"That's not a bad idea, Gergg," she chokes slightly on the big mouth-full she just took, "It's Gergg, isn't it?" Realizing that she shared a meal with strangers and didn't even learn their names, she, somewhat shyly but with a dash of bravery, introduces herself.
"Oh, I'm Deidre, by the way. Deidre Rose. Well, my birth-name is Worm, but that's only on paper. I respond to any combination of the three names. And you kind gentlemen are....?"
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"The pimple-faced preacher is Winter. I always pay extra attention to my pockets when he's around... Because he's always trying to slip me some reading material about some Church of Atom mumbo-jumbo I mean, right Winter?"
"To be honest, I don't know much of anything about the others so I'm as anxious as you are for their introductions."
At the mention of introductions Fitzgerald drops his spoon. My apologies my ladyship, I must have forgotten my manners at the door. Fitzgerald stands up and snaps his feet together at attention. Fitzgerald Hawtry, at your service Madam. He bows to Deidre. And sirs. then bows to the rest of the table in turn. At the last bow his monocle drops from his left eye.
Blasted thing. He picks up his monocle and sits back down, and starts to wipe it off again with the cloth from his pocket. Once it is clean, he puts it back on his right eye. Now where were we? He notices the mostly eaten pie in front of him. Ah yes. Food and what? Ah yes, a pre-war man's home. Well he must be frightfully old by now, but we shall pop on in and check up on him. He goes back to his pie.
Kora was changing into his power armor and was mostly stripped down when someone leaned on him from behind. The sudden warmth was electric and the burn of surprise or embarrassment quickly flushed his cheeks. That was the problem with Co-Ed locker rooms, no privacy. Ever. His skin condition was a source of ridicule from several except one...
Kylee, a bubbly, energetic and overly optimistic novice scribe of the sword that he had worked with several times. She however had no personal bubble and acted like no one else did as she traced his growing patch of white skin as his disease continued to eat away at his pigmentation. The feeling of a warm finger against his cooled skin caused him to shudder and pull away much to Kylee's enjoyment as she stepped back and admired him in his boxers. She almost purred as she spoke in her usual playful tone. "Your in one piece at least~"
He couldn't help but chuckle at her antics as he quickly pulled on his jump suit before working on climbing into his power armor. He shook his head as she stepped up and zipped up his jump suit in a slow way. He laughed before shaking his head at her. "I'm not dead woman!" He swatted her hands away as she laughed and stepped back.
"Thats good, because if you died who else would I tease~"
He gave her a glare as he said jokingly. "Don't you have something to fix or work on, other then me that is."
She thought for a moment and then shook her head as she smiled broadly."Nope! Besides I enjoy the view, tall lanky and full of gumbtion~" She paused before adding. "So how have you been? I heard your fight with your parents, sounding like you almost went to blows... And of course everyone heard the Head Paladin call you in. I'm just glad your not being escorted out..." It was rare for her bubbly attitude to fade like this and before he could speak she leaned in and pressed against his chest with her head resting against his shoulder.
He grave her a light squeeze as he spoke, calmly reflecting on the last three days of hell with his family. "It was pretty bad, my father was furious..."
"What were you thinking!? They want to throw you out do you understand this!? Why were you so g+!!$&n reckless!" "Better then letting these &*^%s have free g#& d!&n reign dad! We say were doing something but we don't do SH^@!" "Enough you two! I swear, just go box it out already for Steel's sake! No more yelling in this house, your both grown men not damn children. Joe I mean it! You two Kora, sit the hell down!"
The argument had been running through his head and what the Head Paladin said as well, he was still in the hot seat and the pan was tipping him towards the fire. "We eon't be speaking for awhile, not until I straighten up. The Head Paladin gave me an assignment."
With that Kylee looked up, a flash of excitement lighting up her beautiful face as she spoke. "OH! Thats good right? Back on patrol or...?" Her face sombered up as when he answered and she just laid her head back against him.
"Solo mission, scouting out an old vault. Intel says it's a calm area, nothing to report so it should be an easy recon." He lied, but it was better then making her worry even more about him.
She however responded with a hard punch in the gut, enough that it bent him over to eye level with her as she said. "Your a terrible liar... You better come back in one piece or I will find you and drag your ass back here~" She said the last part with a small peck on his cheek before stepping back again. "Good Luck Kora, bring me something useful back you hear me!"
He coughed as he rubbed his abused abs and nodded at her smiling. "Of course, milady steel." He said the last part with an overly extravagant flourish, elicting a laugh from her as she left the locker room.
Once she was gone he looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head at the strangeness of his looks. Despite growing up all his life with this body he looked ugly because of his disease. He didn't dwell on it for long as he remembers something that Kylee had said to him once. I love your eyes, it shows how unique you are, how special. It's like one eye sees the past and the other sees the future...
His gaze drifted to his power armor, the shining symbol of the Brotherhood, of the protectors of the Midwest of what used to be the US of A. The future... He strode over to his armor and pulled open the chest peice and climbed into the suit. Snapping open a locked panel on his wrist he started cycling the suits power up and snapped the chest plate back in place. "I won't let you down Kylee..." He whispered as he flexed his mechanical fist, tightly balling the fist together before reching up and pulling down his helmet. "Time to kick some ass... Vault two-five-two here I come."
He strapped on his gear, pulled on his combat pack with all of his supplies and moved to the central lift. When it reached surface he saluted his fellows and plunged into the wastes, going off memory of the map layout and using the various landmarks to guide him. traveling alone mean't he could run into trouble so he cycled up both his ripper and Laser rifle and prepared for the worst. However armed with his Laser rifle would make short work of anyone stupid enough to make a move on a Brotherhood Paladin.
Winter, who has been fervently hoping that Atom does smite Gergg witha mighty attack of the squits in response to his blaspheming, snorts contemptuously, muttering something about "Pearls before swine".
He recovers sufficiently to introduce himself pleasantly to Deirdre, Fitz and Darius. "Atom's blessing upon you, sister. And you, brothers. Once you've finished your meals, let's make haste. I want to see what this pre-war man looks like!"
He seems to be rather excited at the prospect.
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Helaughs a guffgaws at the mention of a prewar man. He picks some rocks out of the keypad of his old rugged looking pipboy.
Names Darius. And dont be surprised by what you find you might be amazed...... As for my tats well I got them a long time ago for various thing. Like my first kill and joining a select group of soldiers. Men who were the best of the best and would and still will lay down their lives for their oaths. Those tiny few of us that are left. To absent companions..... All to often they were the best of us.
When he says his toast he downs his water and makes ready to go. As he does anyone who would know notices the words semper fidelas on his arms and U.S. war eagle peaking out of his shirt.
I think we should move out so we can scout around.... besides there might be a powercell there I can use....
He strokes his pack lovingly.
Queen? What queen? Fitzgerald looks around the room slightly startled, looking for any signs of royalty, but only finding dirt and men. After finding no one, he gives a short bark of a laugh. Ah, you pulled a fast one on me didn't you old boy. Jolly good. He stands up and straightens his jacket. He slaps Darius on the back. But this man is right. We should get cracking. Let's go find this man. At that, Fitzgerald starts to march his way out the door.
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"I'll meet ya at the statue, guv'nah," Gergg tells Fitz, continuing his labored British accent long past anyone in the group found it humorous. "I've got a few things to attend to first before I head too far north of town."
The ghoul slides away from the table, glancing at Diedre to see if she had picked up the hint that he intended to scope out the missing townies' house.
Survival
k-local
"Oh... riiiiight. The house. Where I had left the ov... you know what, lets just go." The young sprite, now full of much needed energy, bounced out of her seat and onto her feet in a continuous motion. She was ready to explore some vaults.
"So, how about we meet at the Vault then when we're done checking the residence? It shouldn't take too long."
[B] So where have you two blown in here from? And what do you think of this job.... This whole thing smells like a giant snafu just waiting to show how fubared it is... [b]
Geography
Nature
Survival
in the dadarkness at tye back of the room unseen by most camper now he's seen da meat lights a reffer and crocks out.
”spirits dem giing to needs all da healing magics to live da walk TV has set out for email, yes channel 5 da going to need the full cable television series ”
he gets up and fillows the thre out , a srorny looking dog follows him.
Camper looks around,
"others comin, me knows, TV Adds say so"
Heading out of the Cavern, Gergg recalls the general location of the house, and with a little asking around, Deidre finds out the quickest path to the building. Sure enough, along the route she notices signs of pretty usual travel both to and from town on the road.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, you reach the Halls residence. The main building looks to be a slightly collapsed ranch-style house: one floor, reinforced with metal sheeting, plywood, and wooden boards, all of which look to have been harvested over the years and added onto the walls as needed. There aren't any windows on this side, and the one door (assuming you try it) is locked. Calling out gets no answer if you attempt that.
Winter, for all his knowledge of Atom's power and glory, isn't much of a geographer, and he doesn't know a lot about the area around town. Though he knows that the Pre-War Man is somewhere a mile or two distant, he isn't sure of an exact location.
Luckily, Fitz has seen the top of the statue in his travels before, and he's able to figure out a good idea of where it would be. Unfortunately, between the ravine, the hills, wreckage and ruins from the War, and rockslides that have occurred since then, even the explorer can't figure out a good way to actually near the statue. You could get about a quarter-mile from the position--maybe close enough to get a good look at it, a better look if you had a sniper rifle or binoculars--but actually getting to the base of the statue would take quite a bit of doing.
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"Knowing the way the sentinels around this dump operate I was kind of expecting a note on the front door saying the Halls were moving. Then again, I wouldn't be surprised at all if the family's dead inside their own house. If no one objects, I'll be persuading the lock now." he barely pauses for a response. "OK, here I go."
Roll to assist
"Well, brother, this is as close as we're going to get. Do you have a scope of any sort? Otherwise, it looks like Atom has frowned on our endeavours and we'll have to head back"
Roll to assist
"Hahaha... persuade. 'Oh we'll just eloquently debate the door open, boy-cracky!'. HAH! Just playin' Gergg..." Deidre jokingly mocks a British accent.
"Here, let me take a look...."
Roll to assist
Eeeeeeh... You know what? ... maybe I'll just let you handle it. Clearly I'll just f!!@ it up.
His cross country trek was long and ardous, he marched along with his trusty Laser Rifle in hand and hoped nothing too big came to test his defenses. The simple map that his operation papers had shown made it easy to determine land marks and exactly where he was. Walking in power armor, although safe, was a slow Process. His HUD blipped every now and again, giving him false signals...
But for the most part his particular suit of armor was without...
Glitches. For the most part anyways.
As he crested a tall ridge he slung the laser rifle over one shoulder and wistled at the scenery around him. "Nothing but dust and death out here..." Shaking his head he steeled himself and headed down the ridge in a fast jog, hoping not to outrun himself and topple over. "Can't screw this up, i'll be home in time for supper!" He carried the momentum of his downhill jog as far as he could before having to slow down again and continue at a slow and steady pace...
With the help of Camper, Deidre, and Darius, Gergg gets just enough leverage and torque on the lock to successfully bypass the tumblers. The lock opens with a satisfying click, and you can now open the door...
You can make out, with keen eyes, that the statue is definitely of a human, and looks very old--definitely from before the War. It looks like he's wearing a suit of some kind, but beyond that, you can't make much out.
Nice RP! I promise you'll be meeting up with the group soon, either at the Vault or in town if they keep spending time.